


Time taking over

by evilleaper



Series: Dark Shadows over Time [2]
Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilleaper/pseuds/evilleaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exhausted and behaving irrationally Al is sent to quarters to rest, but with everything that's going on with Sam and his current leap it's far from easy for him to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time taking over

**Author's Note:**

> "Time taking over." takes place during 'Dark Shadows over Time.' This piece is part two of The Shadows over Time series. You will need to read Dark Shadows over Time to understand this story. Not new, just new to AO3.

**Stallions Gate, New Mexico. 15th of May 2001.**

**Al**

Well here I am, confined to quarter for the duration like I am no more than a bloody ensign. Except _I'm_ not some wet behind the ears kid, I'm the one who's suppose to be running this show and now I'm here lying on my bed in my shorts and one of Sam's really old T-shirts. Yeah, so my sleep attire has gone to hell along with everything else. Not that I'm expecting to actually get any sleep, but I’ll it give a try, anything to appease Bena.

I'm not worth shit at the moment; running on empty as per usual and Verbena knows it. Condition normal you might say, but I can't even fool her into believing that's enough at the moment because we both know it's not. No, things are far from normal or what usually passes for normal around here; they haven't been since this leap started and by my reckoning there's more to come before this is over. 

I roll over on my side; trying to get comfortable and close my eyes. I'm still warm from the shower I've just taken so I haven't bothered with the covers on the bed even though I know if I do manage to get some shut eye I will wake up freezing. Which I think, struggling to pull the top blanket out from under me without getting off the bed and draw it over me will not help my mood when I do wake up. _Rest_ Calavicci I tell myself, try to relax.

Huddling down I try to do just that, but my body has other ideas. I'm tense, my nerves frayed to the point that there isn’t much left. I think about Sam, big surprise considering that's about all I think about these days. Not the Sam I've left back in 1973, the one who thinks I've lost my mind because I can't face what's happening to him. I have faced it, lived it for almost a year, except he doesn't know that and I'm sure as hell don't want to be the one to tell him.

No, I think about how much I miss him right now, how I only want to keep him safe and what it's gonna be like when he comes home. I won't push him; he doesn't remember us so I'm not going to tell him, but sometimes I imagine what it would be like if he did remember and he was happy about the idea. He was in the beginning. Liked being with me. Loved me, he said.

I settle on that for a bit, remembering what it was like for Sam and me during those few months before he leaped. It shocked the hell out of me that he took to the whole thing as quickly as he did, but I really should have known better. Having him say 'yes' just because his body was telling him it was okay was one thing, I just didn't figure his head would eventually tell him different and the conflict between the two would make it so difficult for us. No, I should of realised that Sam had been straight, very straight for forty odd years and that sooner or later he would find the whole situation too much for him to handle.

It wasn't all bad though, most of it was like having all my dreams coming true at once and that's what I focus on. I let myself relax a little more now, doing what I have done many times over the years to help me sleep. It's my favourite fantasy.

Reaching back I find the memory I like best, the one when Sam last wore the T-shirt I'm wearing now. He's here lying on the bed with me. We've moved from the couch after things got too hot and heavy. I want to show him how good it can be and he's more than willing, to start with. I take a deep breath, pushing away the emotions that rise up; blanking out what I don't want to remember by holding on to what I do.

Sam's on his back and I'm kissing him long and slow, putting everything into it. He's moaning as I move over him, my hands and mouth doing things to him he's never let anyone do before me. The T-shirts in the way so I push it up, licking his chest and sucking on his nipples as I spend a little time getting him use to the idea of going further. Sam's loving it, he's holding the hem of his shirt up giving me more room to move, gasping when I latch on to him and suck at his erect nipples one at a time. The attention is too much for him and I don't even bother trying to hide my satisfaction as he finally decides to lose the T-shirt to give me better access. I sit back as he struggles out of it and then throws it across the room. Laying back down again he doesn't say a word, just waits for me to remove my shirt also.

I get with the program quick smart and as expected skin to skin is even better. I’m as hard as a rock and I am rubbing up against him in no time. Sam’s in no better condition than I am. His length is clearly outlined through his jeans and I can't resist. 

"Gotta touch you Sam." I'm saying to him as I loosen his belt and undo the fly on his pants. "Want you so much, baby. Let me make you feel good."

I have to really concentrate now on the fantasy vision of that night; pushing away the reality of what happened and letting my imagination take over. It's not easy but I add a little of my own authenticity to the moment by stroking my waking cock through my shorts. It works; remembering what it was like the few times Sam touched me.

Working towards more contact I slip my hand inside my shorts and take hold of my heated flesh to aid the fantasy.

"Yes." Sam is saying under me, his voice barely recognizable, so filled with unsatisfied need. "Touch me Al." He whispers as he helps me with his jeans.

Between us we get them off and now Sam's beautifully naked. He's waiting for me to make love to him and the image he makes, so beautiful and trusting as he watches me strip out of the rest of my clothing makes me realise I can't hold back any longer. Stroking my dick faster I climax within seconds, panting into my pillow as I come over my own hand; crying out Sam's name as the last of it pumps from my body.

Empty now I lay still. The afterglow of my climax doesn't last nearly long enough. My body feels sated but I feel as I usually do, ashamed that I am brought to this. That while Sam was with me I couldn't make him trust me enough to let go of his doubts and fears completely. Pressing him for more than he could give, even to me, had been a mistake. Probably one of the biggest mistakes of my whole miserable life. Telling him about us especially after what he's just been through will only make him run from me again and I don't want to do that. If I can't have him as my lover then I'll settle for his friendship and I'll spend every day of the rest of my life being grateful for it.

I lay where I am for a while longer; wiping my hand on my shorts as I strip them off and drop them beside the bed. I still need sleep and I know that if I just focus on the more traditional relaxation techniques Verbena has taught me I just may accomplish my goal. All I need is a couple of hours of shut-eye and then she'll let me get back to Sam. He needs me more than ever now and I can't let him down – somehow though I know it's already too late.

It's no use I realise after a few more minutes of lying in the dark. I'm back to thinking about the last time I saw him and I can't push the thoughts away any longer. He hates me right now, hates everything I am and was. I can understand the shock he must feel each time he is thrust into a new life and is expected to just accept without question the moralities of how others may live their lives. If by some small twist of fate and Sam doesn't hate me yet, I am damn sure he will when he finds out his that latest host is me. 

Throwing off the blanket I get up to look for a cigar; stubbing my toe on the end of the bed on my way to the dresser. I should have turned the light on but it doesn't matter now because I have found what I was looking for. I extract a fresh Chivello from the top draw along with a clean pair of shorts.

I slip into the shorts and switch on the light. I can't find my lighter in the dark. I remember leaving it in my trouser pocket but I can't seem to locate which one. It's a mistake I realise. My dress whites are draped over the back of the chair in the corner of my room. The sight of them makes me cringe. Honestly I don't know what possessed me to put on my uniform in the first place. I have no right it to wear it. Not by navy standards -- not since I met Sun Lee Tran.

I change my mind about the cigar and turn the bedroom light off again; giving myself a moment to let my eyes adjust once more before I make my way into the kitchen and hit the light switch above the stove. Depositing my unlit Chivello on the kitchen bench I pull out a glass and the bottle of Bourbon I keep hidden in the back of the cupboard and I do what I have promised myself a thousand times what I won't, and pour myself a drink. Not giving myself time to think about the consequences I drain the glass and pour another double before capping the bottle and return it to its hiding place.

The liquor hits the spot. Its fire slowly spreads to my limbs and my head notes the very beginnings of the numbness I require right now. It's a blessing; always has been when I don't want to feel and that's my intention, to feel as little as possible.

Crossing to the sofa I sit down. Nursing my glass I take a couple more sips and allow the alcohol to continue to work its magic. It's been months since I had a drink. I don't remember what it was over the last time but I know whatever it was, it was nothing compared to this.

After six and a half years of tracking Sam through time those of us still here are getting pretty damn good at what we do. We try to stay as detached from many of the situations he finds himself in. There's no point getting emotionally involved each time, it doesn't help Sam and it doesn't help us. Of course we worry about him, but as a team we realised a long time ago that we can’t have a sissy fit each time Sam had to handle anything more than getting a cat out of a tree. It wasn't gonna get the job done. Except I know different, no matter what I tell them and we tell each other, I of all people know it's a lie. It's impossible not to get involved when someone you love is hurting or is afraid and all 'you' can do is watch.

Taking another swig of my drink I try unsuccessfully to clear my mind, but I guess there isn't enough booze on the entire planet to do that. My heart feels like it's going to break any minute now and even though what's left of my rational mind tells that's impossible, that is exactly how it feels. I miss Sam so much and each day he's gone it gets harder to convince myself he'll be okay; that someday we'll bring him home. A little under twenty-four hours ago I had thought for several terrible minutes that we would be -- finally bringing Sam home that is. That at any moment we would be receiving Sam's lifeless body in the waiting room and it would all be over.

You see Sam we had been out of contact for just over forty eight hours when Ziggy gave us the word that he has been located and we could be expecting a new visitor in the waiting room any minute. To my way of thinking that was fine because I'm already in main control, checking in what's gone down through the night when this happened a little over forty-eight hours ago. So I wandered into the waiting room not real sure what I'm gonna see when I got there, but I'm okay about it, cause, well I figure after all these years, I've seen it all before.

I was wrong, dead wrong.

The first thing that happens is that the monitors start racing, pulse rate, blood pressure are all rising like they’re gonna go off the scale and then before anyone can work out what's going on the new host finally materializes in front of me. Its Sam of course, always is in the beginning, takes a couple of seconds for the link between him and I to adjust and I see the host for who they are. It doesn't register straight away, who I'm eye-to-eye with; all I see is the pain in his eyes and then a split second later I know Sam's in trouble.

I leave Verbena gawking after me, and run. The Imaging chamber is up and ready and I waste no time getting myself centred on Sam. What I see when I get to him can't be put into words. It's an indescribable horror that only someone who's been in that situation will understand. My first instinct is to scream and I don't fight it, except somehow I manage to make myself form words and I get them out. I tell Sam not to move, and thank God he doesn't argue with me. He's frightened and confused and I'm no better off.

After getting myself to finally move I go closer to him, I don't want to look at the scene we've landed in this time but I can't help seeing the others and hearing the sounds of loss as I cross the room. Whimpers of pain and hopelessness so profound and absolute ring in my ears and I can do nothing to stop them.

I can't help looking at the man behind Sam; the same man I prayed I would never have to see again, but he is there and like everything else that is happening I can't change it. I turn my attention to Sam, shutting out the other things going on as I kneel down beside him. I do the only thing that may help him at that moment and tell him to hold on. By the time it’s all over I don’t much of anything about what I've seen and heard. It's a strange sensation, like being in void.

I have procedures to follow at the beginning of each new leap so I follow them. I check where the VC guards take the poor kid who's been an audience to my friend’s assault and get back to Sam as soon as I've figured it out. I tell Sam what he's got to do to stay in one piece and ignore the rest. When I do look over at Sam, so confused, ashamed and most probably hurt I can't make myself think about what he's just been through, it's gone, all of it. I feel nothing. I have a job to do and I do it; don't think beyond that I tell myself.

Realising I had the ability to remain neutral through what Sam had endured made me think I that I actually had some sort of control of the situation; I could practice what I preached around here, and I would not let this leap ruin Sam, or me.

Well, I think, raising my half-empty glass in a silent salute to myself. Staying detached from the whole sordid side of my imprisonment with the Vietcong kept me going for a while anyway, but no longer I realise as I lower my shaking arm moments later and the images of Sam on his knees takes the very last of my resolve and crushes it. Tears well in my eyes and I let them fall. 

I cry for I don't know how long, only a few minutes I guess, not long in the scheme of things. Not when I considered all that has been lost to Sam and me. I know it's selfish to be thinking about myself, knowing Sam may never be the same again but I can't help loving him. I still hold out hope that one day he will love me in return again. This leap seems to have put an end to all of my hopes and dreams but right now all I can think about is keeping Sam safe, and the damage to both of us to a minimum.

I had known from the onset that keeping Sam in the dark wasn't going to be easy, he's not one to let anything go by; especially anything he sees as wrong. He's right, it was wrong, he has been wronged in the worst possible way but he doesn't understand and I know if I ever try to help him to make sense of it, it will destroy us. 

Verbena is another matter I have to deal with. She has figured out I'm not doing so well and I know, like Sam, I can't keep her at bay much longer. She has ordered me to rest and then I'm to meet her in her office to talk. This of course is why I am here in the middle of the day instead of being in the imagining chamber where I belong.

She knows about my feelings for Sam, has done for a couple of years now and in her own way she has been supportive. I know she'll never put it in my file or anything like that, but I don't know about this. This is part of what she does, to create profiles of the people Sam leaps into; to include back ground information and if possible, bring the subjects details up to present date. This isn't about strangers though, this is about me, my life she's studying. There are things I don't want to think about. Haven't thought about for close on thirty years. I've put them behind me and I definitely don’t want other to know. I trust Verbena, like I've never trusted anyone of her kind before, but I just I don't know how much she going to be able to leave out.

I'm worried about what will be revealed about Sam and me during this leap and what the repercussions might be for not only us, but the Project as well. I can’t think about it anymore. I don’t have the energy for it. I have to get back to Sam and try and see him through this.

I finish the last of my drink. I want another, but I know I can't risk it. I’ve got to try and keep Sam safe the only way I know how. I put my empty glass on the coffee table and go back to the bedroom. I need the head first and after washing my hands and face I crawl under the covers on my bed. 

I roll over and close my eyes again. Sleep seems almost likely now. This time I picture Sam lying next to me, smiling and it's with this image that I finally find peace.

THE END


End file.
